Darth Vader goes to Therapy
by keekum
Summary: Darth Vader is quite concerned about the dark path his life has taken. He is tired of being mean, and he is sick of his crazy family problems. What is his last resort? Therapy.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: We all believe the story as we have seen it. But what really went on with Darth Vader? How did he really feel? Some of his claims may shock you, and some may not seem quite so shocking. But he's just revealing what was really going on in his head..what his real motivations were. Eeeep, scary!!! Hehe. Enjoy.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or anything associated with it. Any changes made in the generally accepted plot lines of the story are not valid..simply because Darth Vader's version of the story may be a bit twisted..  
  
Darth Vader goes to Therapy  
  
It was a day like any other. I stood before the window of my office, tightly clutching a folder that was overflowing with papers. Because I was at the top floor of the clinic, I could look out and see the roofs of all of the surrounding buildings. The one right outside my window was so close, I figured it would only take one little jump for me to make it across. You have no idea how many times I have actually considered such an escape - I can see myself now, running carelessly from roof to roof, feeling the cool breeze flow through my hair. No psycho patients to worry about, no bizarre problems to solve. Why, oh why did I become a therapist?  
  
I opened the folder, which concerned my next appointment. A male patient, who had apparently undergone several operations to supply himself with mechanical limbs, was concerned about the dark path his life had taken. He was also afraid that his family was going nuts. It did not seem to be an uncommon tale.  
  
Boy was I ever wrong.  
  
The warm summer sun, which had been shining so cheerfully before, was suddenly masked by a shadowy cloud. My office became engulfed by a depressing sort of darkness. As I placed pillows on the leather daybed, my assistant called from reception to inform me that my patient had arrived. I laid the folder in my lounge chair, and stood beside the chair as I waited.  
  
Heavy footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. Each step became increasingly loud, and eventually I could feel my office shaking from the intensity. I wondered why my patient had not taken the elevator. It was a ten-story building, for heaven's sake.  
  
I was surprised when I heard not a knock at the door, but simply a deep, powerful voice that bellowed, "Let me in, and be quick about it."  
  
A bit stunned, I regained my composure and made for the door. I opened it slowly, for I was quite afraid of what I might see. Sure enough, a tall, dark figure stood before me. Not only was he dressed in black, but he wore a black mask which I thought resembled a skull. I saw no eyes, simply two black circles which shined just the same as any other part of the mask, and for a mouth I saw a formation that looked very much like some sort of vent. He looked more like a machine than a man. The document in his folder said he had a history of mechanical limb transplants. I didn't know that every part of the body was considered a limb.  
  
"So you're the therapist?" his voice boomed.  
  
"I certainly am, Mr....um....is it Vader?" I replied rather hesitantly.  
  
"Darth Vader, if you don't mind. I believe that respect is best shown through the utilization of one's full name," he said.  
  
"Very well, Darth Vader. May I take your, uh, cape?" I asked, trying to be polite.  
  
"Most definitely not!" he shouted, "this cape is the symbol of my notoriety, the very depiction of my great power! And besides, I think it looks rather snazzy."  
  
I nodded, feeling quite confused. I motioned for him to take a seat on the daybed, which he did, surprisingly, without any comment. I then picked up his folder from my lounge chair, sat down, and prepared to begin the session.  
  
A/N: Well, we have not yet been able to investigate the inner workings of Darth Vader's twisted mind, but trust me...it's worth waiting for. So please review, and I'll post the next part soon! 


	2. A scary patient

A/N: So, we now have Darth Vader with the therapist. Are you ready to hear his story? I mean really, are you ready? Okay, I'm assuming you said yes. So READ!!!!  
  
P.S. - Kids, don't follow Darth Vader's example. Smoking is bad for you.  
  
Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own Star Wars and I'm not really sure I would want to. Have you ever imagined how stressed out George Lucas must be all the time, with all this stuff to worry about? And as far as plot lines, you're probably going to wonder why Darth Vader (better show him respect by using his full name) claims that he knew about his children when they were first born, but face it, he's a bit loopy....that's why he's at therapy.  
  
PART 2  
  
Darth Vader suddenly took out a pack of Marlboros from the pocket of his cape. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked. I shook my head, and watched as he lit the cigarette, wondering how he would smoke it if he didn't have a mouth.  
  
"I know it's a nasty habit, but a bounty hunter on Geonosis got me hooked years ago. I never had the patience to quit," he informed me.  
  
I watched as he placed the cigarette in one of the slits of the vent which served as his mouth. He didn't take a puff of it, he just continued breathing in the same, measured way he had before. I began to wonder if he had any control over his breathing. I decided it was better not to ask.  
  
"So," I said, ready to start, "I suppose the best thing for me to do is just let you talk."  
  
"I like the way you think," he responded, and I imagined that he'd be smiling if he had any control over his facial expressions.  
  
"Well then go at it," I said, taking out a pad of paper for my notes.  
  
He leaned back, and put his free hand up to his chin, as if he was engaging in some deep reflection. He shook his head slowly as he gazed out the window at the cloudy sky. "I've had quite a life," he said to himself.  
  
I thought better than to reply.  
  
"I used to be a nice guy. I didn't have a dad. My mom said she just kind of got pregnant with me by herself. Huh, likely story. But I don't ask questions."  
  
I nodded, although I didn't quite understand.  
  
"I was a slave for a real sleazebag mechanic, until this Jedi named Qui-gon started saying I was the chosen one who would bring balance back to the force and all that. Blah, blah, blah, I didn't really care. All I knew was that he brought a really hot chick with him. I was just a kid then, though. I didn't stand a chance.  
  
"Anyway, Qui-gon freed me and said he was going to train me to be a Jedi. I had to leave my mom, but I figured, what the heck. The only problem was that Qui-gon died before he could even get started. Ha, what a loser. Well, his kid apprentice Obi-wan started training me and we got along just fine for a while. But I think he was always jealous of me because I was so much better-looking than him. Yeah, I sure stole a couple of his girlfriends. But that's getting off topic.  
  
"A few years later I met up with that same hot chick I knew all those years before. She said I was still a little kid. I thought she was blind or something, because I knew I was hot. But she eventually came to her senses, and we hooked up. Then I took her to the place I grew up, because I wanted to check up on my mother. Yeah, I was a real devoted son. But I found out that these freaky sand people had kidnapped her and done bad things to her, and I didn't ask what. I killed them all regardless, and I liked it. I thought it was fun. That's when I realized how truly demented I was."  
  
I saw him beat his fist on the daybed. I was feeling rather frightened.  
  
"My girlfriend wasn't too bright. She encouraged my violence. She would hold me in her arms and tell me my fits of rage were just everyday teenager stuff. I don't think she realized my true sadistic nature when she soon married me."  
  
His hand was gently stroking the felt pillow at his side. He ran his fingers slowly up and down the fabric, but I was rather surprised to see that they left sweat marks. How can a mechanical hand leave sweat marks? Again, I thought it was better not to ask. He obviously noticed the sweat marks as well, because he made an effort to hide them from me by covering them with his cape. I tried to hide my quiet snickering.  
  
"Well, the years went by and I got meaner and meaner," he continued, "and soon my wife gave birth to my twin children. We named them Luke and Leia. I don't know where those names came from. My wife must have chosen them, because I personally wanted to name the twins Blood and Guts. I thought those names had a nice ring to them. But my wife felt differently. In fact, we began to feel differently about a lot of things. She thought I was a bad influence on the children. So she sent them away.  
  
"Luke went to live with my bratty stepbrother Owen and his wife. I thought about making a move on her, but I decided not to, because she was creepy. I'm creepy too, but that's beside the point.  
  
"Leia was taken into the custody of a certain politician from Alderaan, whom I had always disliked. He was too big for his britches. That's why I blew his planet up later on. It's great to be a sadist.  
  
"Anyway, something really disturbing happened when Luke and Leia grew up. Luke met his sister and fell in love with her. I thought that was gross, even if I am a sadist."  
  
This story was becoming rather strange, but entertaining just the same. Yet I wondered why Darth Vader discouraged his son's love for his sister, but had still contemplated making a move on his sister-in-law. That seemed almost as disturbing. But just like usual, I decided not to ask.  
  
"Well, I hired this creep Han Solo to go fall in love with my daughter so that my son wouldn't marry her. He did a good job. A bit too good I'm afraid. My fatherly nature kicked in. I didn't want anyone taking my daughter away from me. So I froze Han in carbonite, thinking that would hold him. But noooo. Of course, my daughter makes it her duty to go and free him. I couldn't stand their reunion. Good grief, he was all like, 'who are you?', and she's like, 'someone who loves you.' I wanted to throw up."  
  
With all of Darth Vader's ranting, I went into a daze, wondering what sort of a guy Han Solo must have been. He was probably a fearless hero, with a heart that could stand a little romance. Then I started to dream about Luke, until I came to my senses. Any guy who digs his sister has to be pretty desperate. I soon returned to my normal state of attention, and began listening again to my patient.  
  
A/N: Hmm, what will happen next? How will the therapist handle Darth Vader's rather unpropitious problems? And most importantly, how can a mechanical hand leave sweatmarks? The answers are coming. Please review, and I'll post the third and final chapter soon! 


	3. Caribbean Cruise

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, it means a lot, I love y'all!! Keep it up!!!! Sooo, Darth Vader (once again, we must use his full name) has revealed a few things, and now he's ready to tell the rest of his story, so let's see what he has to say!!!  
  
Disclaimer: blah blah blah.yeah, I don't own Star Wars.  
  
PART 3  
  
"Well, my annoying son was mad because I wouldn't let him marry his sister. So, he decided to confront me. He said, 'I know there is good in you father, so please let me marry my sister.' I tried not to lose my cool as I replied, 'It is too late for me, my son. And that's just gross, you freak!' Luke was taken aback by the way I spoke to him. He started whining, but I just shoved him onto an elevator and gave him a good whack in the head. I took him to my master, the emperor. Of course, he was quite disgusted by the sight of the old man. Even I, the emperor's former apprentice, thought he was 'butt ugly,' as the kids say. But I just informed Luke that he was a nice guy who simply was not loved enough as a child."  
  
My hand was moving frantically. Darth Vader had quickened his talking pace, and I was having trouble keeping up. Sensing my stress, he paused for a moment and reached over to put out his cigarette in the ashtray on my desk. When I finally got up to speed, he began again.  
  
"My son and I soon began our lightsaber fight. The emperor had some weird idea like he was going to turn Luke to the dark side or something. I just wanted the kid to avoid incest. I didn't want to get political. Regardless, I lost the fight, because Luke cut off my right hand. That's why I didn't knock on the door earlier - I had just gotten back from surgery, where they actually gave me a real hand from a real person to replace my old mechanical one."  
  
That explained the sweat.  
  
"And I just don't knock with my left hand," he continued, "because it's unnatural, you know? If you're right-handed, that is. But to get back to the story, I wasn't really mad that I lost. Sure, Luke was a weirdo, but he was my son just the same. But then the emperor started electrocuting him. It was pretty freaky. As I sat there watching, I remembered that I had never done my exercises that morning. I looked around for some weights to lift, but the best thing I could find was the emperor. I picked him up, and sort of dropped him into this pit of despair that happened to be nearby. Well, I was tired from that strenuous workout, so I lay down to rest. Luke thought I was dying. Ha, Ha, what a gullible kid. Soon I got away from him, and I realized that I didn't like the direction my life was taking. I didn't like being a machine man. I didn't like being mean. And I sure didn't like having such weird children. So here I am."  
  
I finished writing the last words on my notepad, and let out a deep breath. I was glad I took notes, because I figured I could make a neat movie out of this. "So, Darth Vader," I said, "are you interested in hearing my opinion?"  
  
He hesitated at first, but he probably realized that therapists were supposed to give their opinion, so he eventually gave a steady nod.  
  
"Well, I'd love to give it to you, but unfortunately, your time is up for today," I commented as I looked at my watch.  
  
He seemed a bit disappointed.  
  
"I'll be happy to meet with you tomorrow at noon, if you're not busy," I suggested.  
  
He glanced at the door. "I'll have to reschedule my yoga lesson, but I think I can make it."  
  
"Good, then, it's all settled," I said as I got up from my seat.  
  
"Yes, I suppose," he agreed. He rose from the daybed, and casually flipped over the sweaty pillow that he had covered with his cape, still assuming that I hadn't noticed. He walked slowly to the door, and took one final look at me before he made his way out.  
  
As soon as he was gone, I sank back into my chair and heaved a sigh of relief. I had seen a wide variety of patients, each with a unique problem. But I had never had a patient like him before. He just scared me. I picked up my notes, and gathered the other papers into his folder. As I laid them on my desk, I looked out of the window, and noticed that the shadowy cloud was gone. I gazed longingly at the rooftops. Suddenly, I picked up my phone and called the reception office.  
  
"Harriet?" I said, when my assistant answered the phone.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm leaving for a vacation."  
  
"When?"  
  
"Right now."  
  
Before she could answer, I had already hung up the phone. I walked over to my window, and lifted up the glass. I climbed out, positioned myself on the windowsill, closed my eyes, and took a giant leap. When I opened my eyes, I was on the roof of the travel center building, which happened to be next door. I was going on a Caribbean cruise.  
  
I hoped Darth Vader would have trouble rescheduling his yoga lesson.  
  
THE END...or is it?  
  
A/N: Thank you very much for reading my story! I'm debating whether or not to continue, although I had originally intended for it to end here. So, please review. Once again, thanks for reading! 


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